Page 81 of Glow of the Everflame

I knew what it looked like to watch love be cut short too early. If I could spare my new friends—by the Flames, do I really have Descended friends?—from that tragedy, that was a battle worth fighting.

I shot them a defiant scowl. “You tell the family they can mate with whoever they damn well please. Garath’s order ends with me. If he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with his Queen.”

Taran studied me, his face hopeful. “You truly mean that?”

I scoffed. “You think I would let anyone dare to stand in the way of my beloved cousins andmind-blowingsex?”

Taran and Eleanor looked at each other and grinned.

“Sorry Ellie, she’s definitely my favorite Corbois now,” he crowed.

“Mine, too,” she laughed.

“I step away for a few minutes and the conversation has already turned to sex?”

The three of us looked up to see Luther towering over us with eyebrows raised.

“Diem is lifting Garath’s ban on royals mating without permission.” Eleanor smirked. “And all in the name of good sex.”

Taran pulled me into his side as he beamed up at his cousin. “We love a woman with her priorities in order, don’t we Lu?”

Luther’s piercing stare pinned me in place. “We do,” he said, his voice heart-stoppingly soft.

I squirmed under his rapt attention. “Tell Iléana I said ‘you’re welcome.’ Be sure to send me an invitation to your mating ceremony.” I tried to make my tone light, but the words came out bitter.

Taran cackled so loudly it reverberated around the royal box, and again, a sea of faces turned our direction.

Luther wedged back into the narrow space beside me, his body pressing distractingly hard against mine. He kept his posture stiff, as aware as I was of the crowd scrutinizing our interaction.

“Iléana would never be my mate,” he said tersely. “Our relationship had nothing to do with love.”

“You cared enough to stay with her for years,” I argued.

“No, she and her familychasedme for years. She wanted to be my Queen Consort, and my father wanted an alliance with House Hanoverre. What I want...” His jaw ticked as he stopped himself short.

“What do you want, Luther?”

His eyes dragged slowly to me. He held me there like a butterfly cupped between his hands, fluttering against his touch and wondering if he would be my doom.

Every hair on my neck stood on end as he turned his lips to my ear, his voice low and rough. “Something I cannot have.”

A quiet, breathy sound rushed out of me. The poem in Luther’s hand crinkled loudly as his fingers curled around it into a tight fist.

Behind us, Eleanor laughed loudly at something Taran said, and Garath suddenly shot up from his chair. He stormed toward us. “By the Blessed Mother, will you four keep your childish giggling down? This is a funeral, you know.” His glare sharpened on me. “Haven’t you shown enough disrespect today?”

My face went hot. I jerked away from Luther, dropping my eyes to my lap, though the guilt running through me had little to do with Garath’s scolding and more to do with the way my skin was alight with crackling fire.

“Uncle Garath,” Eleanor said from behind me, “it was my fault, not hers. I—”

“You’re wrong, Uncle,” Luther interrupted loudly. “Targeting innocent victims, as usual.”

Everyone in the gallery stilled, as if Luther had crossed some boundary I could not yet see. I glanced at Aemonn, who was glowering at him in disgust, then at Taran, who looked wide-eyed and wary.

Luther’s jaw lifted in challenge. “Descended funerals are a time for celebration. I’m certain the late King would be honored by our laughter.”

“Yes, how very close you were to my brother.” Garath sneered as he moved closer. “Whatintimateaccess you had when he came to such an untimely death.”

Now even I held my breath.

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